


It's Not Always Wine and Roses

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Relationship(s), mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, things are hard, and Greg's not sure if this is one time too many.  Unfortunately, the only person he can find to talk to about it is Sherlock...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Always Wine and Roses

      “John!  Are you here?”

      “Oh good.  John abandons me for his supposedly, yet untruthfully, necessary errands and now I get to listen to you screeching in my ear.  What a delightful day.”

      “Shut it, Sherlock.  And you’re saying John’s not here?  Brilliant.”

      “I would argue with that assessment.  I think it’s highly negligent on his part, actually, and absolutely uncaring of my needs.”

      “Oh, which are?”

      “Tea.  I have none and that is not acceptable.”

      “I hope he’s out buying nappies because you are the world’s biggest baby.  Go fix your own tea.”

      “Let me think… no.  Why should I assume a task that John is far better equipped to accomplish?  Do try and at least pretend you understand the concept of efficiency, Lestrade.”

      “Yeah, that’s what relationships are all about – efficiency.”

      “It _is_ an extremely important component, along with clear guidelines for bathroom conduct and regular sex.  John is very adamant about the former.  And the latter, though that is one which also has my wholehearted endorsement.”

      “Lovely.  Any idea what time John will be back?”

      “I have no way to predict.  John’s attention is attracted by a wide variety of shiny objects and they can easily distract him from his primary goal.”

      “The both of you!  Neither one of you Holmes is worth a damn.  My god… let me tell you something, Sherlock.  You get your tongue and attitude under control or John’s going to be the next one marching out the door wishing he’d brought a packed bag and…”

Lestrade stopped short and mentally kicked himself.  Sherlock did _not_ need to know that right now…

      “You left Mycroft.”

      “Yes.  Maybe.  I don’t know.  That stupid bastard… I just don’t know.”

Sherlock mentally poked a small, blonde voodoo doll with long and particularly sharp pin. John would suffer dearly for this.  There were emotional issues to handle this was not at all something he was agreeable to.

      “I presume it was some villainous action he perpetrated that finally broke your ridiculous resolve to cohabit with the lumbering ox.  I have never understood your willingness to share his pen.  One thoughtless movement and you would be crushed beneath his hooves.”

      “You know, you’re not a funny man, Sherlock.  Really, you’re not the type, so spare us all the embarrassment of watching you try.”

      “Snippy.  I suppose that is to be expected when one realizes the magnitude of their stupidity.  If, however, you are seeking to stay with John and I until you can find a hovel to claim as your own, you shall find yourself sadly mistaken.  You would be in the way and I am not going to agree to forego engaging in sexual behavior on the sofa just because you are sleeping on it.”

      “I am never sitting on that thing ever again.”

      “John makes me place a blanket down prior to lovemaking so the upholstery is not compromised.”

      “Oh... well, it's nice that John is considerate of other people’s dignity.  And trousers.  Are you sure you have no idea when he’s going to be back?”

      “He will also not want to hear your moaning and weeping over the dissolution of your relationship.”

      “John’s a mate, so yes he would.  He has to.  It’s part of the code.  And I didn’t say Mycroft and I were done.  I just… I just want to figure out some things.”

      “Then please take yourself to a quiet spot so you are able to think without distraction.”

      “I thought that might be here.”

      “It is my privilege to inform you that you are incorrect.”

      “Bastard.  You and Mycroft… complete bastards.  Not one bit of concern for anyone else but yourselves.  The devil can take you both for all I care.”

Lestrade threw himself into John’s traditional chair and glared across at Sherlock who stretched out his legs in the most contrary fashion he could muster.

      “Since your opinion is meaningless to me, you would best save your ravings for the focus of your anger.  Is it a single event that has prompted your flight or the accumulation of slights and neglects to which Mycroft has undoubtedly subjected you in the course of your incarceration?”

      “Mycroft’s a busy man, Sherlock… you know that and so do I.  I accepted that about him when we got together, even if it hurts when he seems to forget that he’s got a life outside of his work.  But today… he had no right to forget today.  No right at all and… and I just have to decide if I can live with that.  Right now, I don’t think I can.”

Sherlock scrutinized the man in front of him and thumbed through his mental files until he found the proper folder, which received a quick review to cement his conclusion.

      “This is the anniversary of your moving in together.”

      “Yeah, it is.   I reminded him about it last week, too.  I know I shouldn’t care about it, since it’s just another day and it’s not like a real anniversary, but it _means_ something to me.  Mycroft and I went through a lot, didn’t have the easiest time, getting to the place where we understood how we felt about each other and decided that we’d found the person who was right for us.  The one we wanted to be with, hopefully, for a very, very long time.  And it’s still a struggle sometimes, but I’ve always held on to the hope that it was all worth it.  That, no matter how busy he was or how stressed, there was always some part of him that remembered who we were to each other and valued it.  That he’d do more if he could… give me more time if he could… but all I wanted was one day.  Even just a part of one day that was all for us.  One day that he was actually focused on our relationship, celebrating that we’d made it a year and were starting on another one.”

      “Mycroft did not schedule the time.”

      “More like _would_ not.  I asked him to take part of the day with me, maybe go out for a drive or even a stroll and a spot of lunch.  I wasn’t asking for a big party or a few days away.  Not even the _whole_ day… just a little time for us and what I get was ‘I do apologize, my dear, but I have other items on my agenda and they must take precedence.’  Romantic, huh?  Even after I give him breakfast in bed, he just grabs a bun off the tray and heads to the shower.  I don’t know, Sherlock… I thought I could handle it, but if he can’t even set aside one bit of thought for our relationship or me on a special occasion, how can I believe he’ll _ever_ do it?  I’m too old to waste my life waiting for crumbs.  Waiting for someone to love me the way I love them.  I thought he did, but…”

      “Now you doubt.”

      “Yeah, I do.  Maybe I’m just convenient.  Come home after a long day and have someone waiting to give you a shag before you go to bed.  That’s not… I don’t want that.  I don’t want to _be_ that.  And I don’t know if I can sit around anymore hoping that it’s going to change.”

      “Is he never kind to you?”

      “Oh sure.  Mycroft’s not a monster, not in any way.  I just remember that when he asked me to move in with him he promised that he wanted it as much as I did.  He wanted to build a life and share something special and be someone I’d never have to doubt, at least for how he felt about me.”

      “And you feel he has broken that promise.”

      “I guess so.  All I wanted was some acknowledgement that today was important.  That _I_ was important, if I’m going to be honest.  We do have some good times, but it’s usually me that pushes for them.  It’s me that speaks up and gets the ball rolling.  If I didn’t, I’m not sure we’d ever do anything beyond sleep in the same bed and share breakfast now and then.  I’m happy to do my part, I _want_ to do my bit to keep things strong between us, but I can’t do it alone.  I’m tired of doing it alone, actually.”

      “So, now you are seriously contemplating severing your relationship with my brother.”

      “I don’t want to.  It makes me sick to think that way, but I also don’t want to be in this same place ten years from now wondering if I could have actually had something… caring.  If I could have found someone who _really_ cared and was happy to show it.  I don’t want to burden us both by staying when I could leave and let us both find a life that was better suited to what we want from it.”

      “And, for you, that is someone whose affections are not something you doubt and who returns your affections unreservedly.”

      “Is that too much to ask?  I don’t need someone by my side 24/7, but it would be nice to just feel like it wasn’t me in all of this by myself.  Maybe it _is_ too much; I don’t know anymore.”

      “But you still care for him, do you not?”

      “Care for him?  I _love_ him, Sherlock.  Love him so much it’s like a fire burning inside me.  When I’m out on some shit case and it’s raining and cold, it’s that fire that keeps me warm.  He’s the first thing I think of in the morning when I wake up and I can’t wait to pry my eyes open to see his face.  I love him more than I thought it was possible to love another person and… I just wish that he could feel that for me.  Feel like his whole world centers when he touches me like mine does when I touch him.  Maybe it’s wrong to expect that.  Maybe it’s unfair to want that from him.  Maybe I’m being unreasonable.  Maybe we’d just be better off apart…”

      “Is there no hope at this point?”

      “I don’t know.  I’m surprised you care, actually.  You threw enough of a fit when Mycroft and I got together that I thought you’d be thrilled to hear I was considering moving out.”

      “I don’t care in the slightest, actually.  And I _am_ thrilled that you are finally coming to your senses.  However, others might be curious as to the nature of your response.”

Sherlock cut his eyes towards the door and Lestrade’s head whirled around, spinning not only from the sudden movement but from seeing Mycroft standing there quietly, with a thick shine painting his eyes.

      “Mycroft… what are you…”

      “I worried when you left in such an agitated state.  It is to my shame that I followed you to gain insight into your mood.”

      “How much… how much did you hear?”

      “Most of your conversation, I believe.”

The shine in Mycroft’s eyes was now gently rolling down his cheeks and Lestrade felt his chest clench from the pain of seeing the man he still loved suffer.

      “I would hope you would allow me to continue it with you.  It is your choice, of course.  I would demand nothing of you, at this point, but I would ask… I would beg that you… please, Gregory, come home with me and…”

Mycroft was nearly choking on everything he wanted to say and Lestrade couldn’t sit a moment longer and watch his partner’s distress.  In the next second, he was wrapping Mycroft in his arms and holding him tightly.

      “It’s alright, love.  Just take it easy…”

      “I did not… you were mistaken.  I did not forget.”

Lestrade cocked his head to look at Mycroft, who smiled weakly and withdrew a small box from his coat pocket.

      “I do not, however, believe you will accept.”

One small ring box sat in Mycroft’s palm and Lestrade hoped the confusion he was feeling wasn’t written all over his face.

      “I do love you, Gregory.  I love you deeply and eternally and I cannot… I cannot express how strongly I also burn with the fire of our affection.  But, I cannot claim as I contemplate our days that I have given you reason to believe or to even know of my inexhaustible desire for your companionship and the love you so freely give to me.  I did not forget today, my beloved, but I also did not treat you in the manner of someone who holds ownership of every portion of my heart, which you most certainly do.  However, I had planned… hoped… that we would have an evening together.  I had something rather important to ask you.”

Lestrade stared between Mycroft’s shining eyes and the box in his lover’s hand and could barely contain the typhoon of emotions he was feeling.  But, there was one thing he did know for certain…

      “You’re right, I can’t accept.  Not now.  It’s… right now, I don’t know what to think.  Or to feel.”

Mycroft put the ring box back in his pocket and quickly wiped the tracks of moisture from his cheeks.

      “And I would not expect you to.  But, will you come home?  I… I would very much like to talk and hear every word you need to say to me.  Please, my dear… I will gladly go onto my knees and plead with you if it will return you to our home so that we may… I cannot lose you, Gregory.  If I lose you, I lose my world.  I cannot survive, I feel, without the love we share and I will do anything, _everything_ , to convince you of that fact and repair the damage I have done.  Allow me a chance, my dearest… please allow me at least a single chance.”

Lestrade held Mycroft more tightly and tried to process the chaos battering his heart and mind.  He needed time.  Time to think and time to breathe and time to understand what he had and what he wanted.  But, he also needed time to talk and listen and give Mycroft the chance he was asking for.  He couldn’t walk away without giving his partner that one vital chance.  It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right and his heart would shatter into even smaller pieces if he just gave up now, when there might be some hope that they could mend what had, along the way, gotten broken.

      “I can do that.  I don’t want to lose you either, Mycroft.  But I won’t marry you.  Don’t let me see that box again.”

Lestrade pretended not to hear the small noise that Mycroft made.  It was too much like what you’d hear from a dog you’d given a kick.

      “Is that… are you stating that you never have the intention of allowing me that honor?”

      “No, that’s not what I’m saying.  It’s just too much to think about right now and… we have things to work out first.  I’m… I’m not happy, love.  It’s been too long since I’ve been happy and I’ll own my part of the problem because… I should have said something earlier.  I just didn’t want to make things worse by bringing it up, I guess.  How about this… let’s see where we are in six months.  Put it on your schedule that in six months you can bring that box out again and ask what you want to ask.  I promise that I’ll give you an answer.”

      “Six months… that is acceptable.  No, that is _magnanimous_ and I am deeply grateful that you will allow me this opportunity.  May we… are you ready to leave?  I would like to begin our conversation as soon as possible.”

Lestrade reached up and ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, loosening the strands to lie in the way he adored seeing them.  His lover’s hair, when it was allowed to run free was one of the most lovely things Lestrade had ever seen or touched.

      “Yeah, I’m ready and actually… I feel better.  It’ll be good to talk, I think.”

One kiss on his lover’s cheek and then Lestrade turned slightly to face the younger of the Holmes brothers.

      “Thank you, Sherlock.  It means a lot that you let me get some things off my chest and I want you to know I appreciate it.”

      “You may show your appreciation by leaving and taking the hippopotamus with you.”

But the nearly-invisible smile on Sherlock’s face took the sting out of his words and Lestrade grinned widely in return.

      “Tell John I said hello.”

      “Go.”

Lestrade made a rude gesture and gave the young man one final smile before taking Mycroft by the hand and walking with him out of the flat.  Sherlock stared at the space where the two men had been and felt a cold finger run up his spine.  Reaching into his pocket he drew out his mobile and began to type.

_Where are you? – SH_

_Buying a shirt.  Want one? – JW_

_You cannot afford it. – SH_

_Bastard.  But true. – JW_

_Take-away instead? – JW_

_Agreeable. – SH_

_And I love you. – SH_

_Are you feeling alright? – JW_

_Yes.  And bring a film.  We shall watch a film tonight. – SH_

_Really?  Ok.  Sounds good. – JW_

_And I love you, too. – JW_

Which was the foundation of Sherlock’s own world.  And that world was not something he could endanger or allow to fracture.  _He_ would not be the one standing there listening to his life shred around him and know it was his own hands that had pulled apart the fabric.  No, that would not be him.

_I am a better man because of it. – SH_

_Someone’s feeling romantic. – JW_

_Are you pleased? – SH_

_Very. – JW_

_Shall I be rewarded? – SH_

_Take-away, film, sex.  Not necessarily in that order. – JW_

No, that would not be him…

**Author's Note:**

> Another work I originally posted on my [tumblr](http://eventhorizon451.tumblr.com)... it was time to give it another home to enjoy...


End file.
